Ain't No Place for No Hero
by Ormspryde
Summary: When the bombs fell, there was not a place on earth they didn't affect; even the sea was not spared radiation and the horrors of war. Will eventually contain slash, and copious violence.
1. War Never Changes

A/N: I've been kicking this around for a while, but I only got around to writing it just now. There will be more, and there _will_ be slash.

Graffiti found on the ruins of the Bikini Bottom bank:

_War never changes, does it?_

Two hundred years before present, the unknown denizens of the land waged violent and terrible war with weapons unknown to the ocean dwellers. Most of these ocean dwellers did not and could not know of the terrors of radiation and the fallout that blanketed the land and fell or was swept into the oceans; they only knew the effects.

Some fortunate creatures, mostly those around the old nuclear test sites, had enough ingrained resistance to radiation to neither succumb to mutation nor die altogether. And unfortunately, not all those who succumbed died.

For some even more seemingly fortunate creatures, there were the vaults. Funded by an unknown entrepreneur for reasons unknown, they were scattered across the sea floor, near pre-war cities. They were designed to be self-sufficient refuges, impregnable to anything their designers could imagine and advertised as a peaceful, affordable getaway, or a shelter should anything untoward happen under the sea.

Little did the residents of these vaults know that they were really being used as test subjects in a series of ocean-wide experiments, designed to study how the various sapient species would react to stress and isolation in the event of a total disaster; others were used to carry out illegal tests on live people. Still others, few and far between, were left alone as control groups.

When the few sea dwellers who knew anything of land life heard the news about the war, they started a panic that almost killed more people and caused more destruction than the actual bombs would; looting and riots were widespread, and the vault dwellers retreated into their refuges and locked the door against any and all newcomers. Those unfortunate enough to be trapped outside fought over basements, caves, and other shelters, no matter how minimal.

Many died, but some survived - presently, two hundred years after the bombs fell, undersea life has begun to claw its way back towards civilization, resettling the old cities and building new settlements with materials gathered from the ruins of the ancients' civilization. The greatest threats to these settlements and to the caravans which wander the sea floor are hostile wildlife, raiders, and the radiation which now permeates both land and sea.

The land around the ancient city of Bikini Bottom, termed the Atoll Wastes by its inhabitants, was ironically enough less hard-hit by radiation than other parts of the sea bottom, even supporting minor agriculture in places. The city itself lies mostly in ruins, but here and there a few buildings are almost intact; its population, numbered in the lower hundreds rather than the pre-war thousands, has managed to band together collectively build a fence around the city as a deterrent towards raiders.

Living in this post-war desolation is difficult and often dangerous, but life goes on, as best it can.


	2. Lost and Found

A/N: Well, here comes the excitement, such as it is. I enjoy doing terrible things to adorable cartoon characters way too much for my own good.

The figure of an octopus, tall and lithe, clothed in a sweater, a newsboy cap, and a black duster against the cold, strode through the deserted land at a pace he could keep up for hours. On his back was a full backpack, depending from which were a few large, spikey shells; dangling from one of his tentacles was a rifle-length speargun, and hanging from a belt were various pouches and a few knives.

It was hard, traveling through the lands that the inhabitants of a ruined Bikini Bottom called the Atoll Wastes, but Squidward managed - everyone who hadn't managed was dead.

He wondered, occasionally, what had become of Squilliam Fancyson, the only other person who'd escaped Vault 203 with him; but he didn't like remembering the vault, and the reason he'd run...

The octopus shivered, and shouldered his speargun, letting it hang next to the backpack containing today's haul. It had been especially hard lately; he had only just missed a large gang of raiders yesterday, and the radsnails he hunted for one of Bikini Bottom's restauranteurs seemed to either be getting rarer or more wary.

He sighed. Maybe it was time to head home.

He broke into a ground-eating trot, trained into him by years of hunting scrap and meat in the Wastes. His eyes roved constantly, searching for danger or opportunity.

He heard the screams behind the next dune before he saw the cause.

Stopping almost immediately, he cautiously topped the next rise, readying his gun. What he saw _sickened _him.

A group of three tough-looking fish - raiders, probably - surrounded a square yellow sponge, who screamed in pain. One of them had something red in his hands, pulling it out of the sponge's mouth while the other two held him still; with a jerk and a spurt of blood, the object came free, eliciting another scream from their victim.

A haze of rage descended upon Squidward as he realized it was the sponge's _tongue_. Silently, he brought his speargun to bear and pulled the trigger, burying a spear in a raider's eye.

The man holding the tongue gurgled and fell to the ground, stone dead. The other two raiders dropped their victim and backed up, drawing their knives even as the octopus jammed another spear into his gun.

'_Get the fuck away from him_,' Squidward growled, his maroon eyes narrowed with barely-contained hatred as he aimed his gun at the one on the left. 'I said, _get away from him_, or you're next!'

The raiders took one look at one another, then ran, leaving the sponge sobbing on the ground.

Squidward watched them, not re-shouldering his gun until they were well away, then he closed his eyes for a moment, the anger leaving him with a shuddering breath. He didn't like killing, but...

A whimper from the sponge reminded him _why_ he'd killed, and he descended the dune, helping the young man to his feet. He rummaged around in his pack for a clean cloth. 'Here, put this in your mouth, it'll absorb the blood.'

Obediently, the sponge stuffed it into his mouth, looking up at Squidward with teary, bright-blue eyes.

'Hey, don't cry...' He looked around for a stick and gave it to the younger man. 'Here, you can use this to write on the ground. Why don't you tell me your name?'

The sponge brightened as much as he probably could under the circumstances. _I'm Spongebob Squarepants_.

'My name's Squidward. What were you doing out here alone?'

Spongebob frowned. _I've been wandering by myself since my parents died_. He paused, then added, _they caught me a few miles from here, they said they were going to 'play' with me. I didn't like their game_.

The octopus felt sick again at that, and found himself suddenly wishing that he'd killed the other two raiders. 'Never mind about that. Do you have anywhere safe to go?'

The sponge shook his head, looking forlorn.

Squidward looked at him, and then in the direction of Bikini Bottom. 'You can come stay with me, if you help me gather food and supplies.'

The younger man brightened again, flinging his arms around the older man. Squidward, both uncomfortable and pleased, patted the yellow head a few times before prying him loose. 'You're welcome, now I've gotta do something before we go. Wait here a minute.'

The octopus went over to the raider's body, pulling the spear loose from its eye before searching the body for anything useful. He found some bottle caps - Bikini Bottom's currency - and a spear-pistol with attendant ammunition. It was lucky for him he'd gotten the one raider with a _gun_ before the man had had a chance to _use_ it. He took the items, and he also found a child's backpack stuffed with clothing and other things and puzzled over it for a moment before feeling Spongebob tug on his sleeve.

'Oh, is this yours?' The sponge nodded, looking relieved, and Squidward gave him his things back.

Wiping the spear off on a stunted kelp plant nearby, the octopus stowed it with his other ammunition, put the spear-pistol in a side pocket on his own backpack, and dropped the bottle caps into a pouch in yet another pocket. 'Let's go, kid.'

Setting out with a companion was a strange feeling for him, but considering what the poor little guy had just gone through, Squidward would cope.

As they walked, the octopus covertly examined the other man, watching sharply for signs of blood loss, but also just looking at him and wondering what his story was.

The sponge was short - probably why the raiders had singled him out, the _bastards_ - and he was dressed in a pre-war pinstripe suit with a red tie. He looked ragged, but there was also an unmistakable air of innocence about him, despite what he'd just gone through.

Squidward shook his head, wondering just how the guy had managed to have anything resembling innocence in a world like this. When the sponge looked at him curiously, he just shook his head again. 'Don't worry about it.'

At last they reached the gate to Bikini Bottom. He waved at Frank, the fish who guarded the gate.

'Who you got there, Squid?'

'Ah, just some kid I picked up, he was being attacked by raiders and I couldn't just _leave_ him there.'

'Going soft on me?'

Squidward looked at the other man seriously. 'They pulled out his _tongue_. I only got one of them, be on the lookout for the other two.'

Frank paled. 'I will, you two go on in.'

The octopus put a hand on Spongebob's head, guiding him in as the gate was opened. He led the boy to the old and dilapidated building, the Krusty Krab, run by an equally dilapidated man, Eugene Krabs. It was one of two fiercely competing eateries in town, but as long as he got paid he didn't care; he'd keep going out and bringing in radsnails, and occasionally searazors when he could catch them.

Krabs grumbled at the meager haul, but took it anyway, paying Squidward with a sack of the food he'd be turning the raw materials into. Radsnail shells were also useful; the shells themselves could be used as or incorporated into helmets, and the spikes could be hafted into knives.

After handing over the food, Krabs turned his attention to Spongebob. 'What's this, a new customer?'

The sponge shook his head, clutching at Squidward's duster and obviously made nervous by the attention.

'What's the matter boy, snail got your tongue?'

Grimacing at the poor choice of words, the octopus spoke up. 'No, _raiders_.'

Krabs had the decency to look at least mildly nauseous at this. 'Are ye serious?'

'As a pack of deathjellies.'

The old crab looked back at Spongebob. 'Sorry about that, lad.'


End file.
